


Wild is the Wind

by MakingStarsShine



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8765401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakingStarsShine/pseuds/MakingStarsShine
Summary: I blame @little-red-2404 for this, she made me think of cuddly Reverb and it was all down hill from there. I was also listening to David Bowie singing “Wild is the Wind” which contributed to this FEELS fest. Anyway, I need to go to bed, and I know y’all wanted more Reverb, so here you go. It’s not the sexy version you might be used to, but it’s still him….. Goodnight/morning …Enjoy?





	

Francisco Ramon let out a low groan, leaning back where he sat on the sofa as pain slowly began to radiate through the left side of his chest. His injury was acting up again. It had been a solid six months since his ‘death’ at the hands of Zoom, and while he knew injuries as bad as the one he’d received normally took a long time to heal, it did not stop him becoming annoyed at these flare ups that left him in pain for hours until you could mend him.

 

“The pain again?” you asked, as you stood over him, a look of concern on your face as you watched his jaw clench and heard him hiss as he shifted in vain to relieve it.

 

“How did you guess?” he asked you with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

 

You shook your head and sat beside him, gently pushing his leather jacket from his shoulders, “How long has it been going on this time?” you asked pressing your palm against his chest, over his shirt, knowing the location of his scar well from having done this countless times before.

 

“It just started,” he responded roughly, “it’s why I came to sit down,”

 

You nodded, applying gentle pressure with your palm as you closed your eyes, feeling your meta power begin to tingle in your fingertips. You had a sort of healing ability, not quite like in fairy tales where they cure people entirely with a snap of their fingers, more like a supernatural stitch. Before the accelerator exploded you had been a surgeon, and whatever it was that happened that night had left you with the ability to stitch people back together with a touch of your hand, along with the ability to relieve pain. It was what had brought Francisco to you in the first place, though when you first met him he insisted on being called Reverb; he’d been dragged into your home, near death, by his brother who threatened to kill you if you couldn’t help.

 

He hissed again, a spark of pain shooting through him for a sudden moment, then he let out a long low groan as it subsided and the pain eased entirely. He hadn’t been very kind to you at first, when he’d gasped awake on your sofa, his brother rushing to his side to explain what had happened. He’d been quite mean in fact, fighting your attempts to ease his pain, to look after him as Dante had instructed you, because what was the point in helping him if you were just going to turn on them once Dante’s threats were lifted? But your persistence had softened him, led him to trust that you genuinely wanted to help, and he found himself wanting you to be around, enjoying the simple knowledge that you were near should he need you. You had become his constant, his solid ground. And it was that role exactly that you had filled with unwavering compassion when he had found out his brother was dead. You stood by him as he raged against the loss, no longer bound to him by fear, but by understanding. You knew what it was like to be afraid, to have people be afraid of you, even if your powers were helpful, they were still powers, normal people feared what they could not understand no matter it’s value.

 

“Thank you,” Francisco said softly, covering your hand with his on his chest, meeting your opening eyes with a look of soft appreciation.

 

Your mouth twitched at the corners, not quite smiling as you nodded and tried to pull back, but his hand held you there, your palm warmed by his body as you felt the gentle thump of his heartbeat. “Is your pain still-” you tried to ask, but his shook his head and you stopped.

 

“The pain is gone, you have done well,” he assured you, his thumb beginning to rub small strokes against the backs of your fingers.

 

“Then why…?” you couldn’t articulate what it was he was doing, because it was more than his hand holding yours in place, it was something else that you could sense in his demeanor, something glimmering in his eyes.

 

He looked at you for a moment, as though you were all he ever wanted to see, “Y/N….do you care for me?” he asked, and your minds immediate response was yes, but only because as his personal healer of sorts, it was by technical definition true.

 

“How do you mean?” you decided to ask for clarification, decided it was better than making an assumption that might end up causing him a different sort of pain, one that you might not be able to ease.

 

“I mean do you care for me?” he repeated, with no initial clarification at all, but then he went on, moving his other hand over your hand still pressed to his chest, pressing it even more firmly against him, “I mean is this merely something you do out of obligation? Do you only stay with me because you must, as my physician? Do you look after me because my brother is not here to take your place?”

 

So many questions, all of them asking the same thing, but your answer was caught in your throat. Did you care for him? Did you stay only because his brother was gone? Was this relationship between you both merely out of mutual necessity, his pain and your fear of loneliness? “I don’t-” you stuttered, those two words coming out first as your face betraying your uncertainty, bringing a frown of dread to his. You took a breath, feeling his heart beat slightly faster under your palm as you said, “Yes….Francisco, yes I care for you,” you looked down, your own pulse racing as you continued, “you are my patient and I care for you as your physician, but it’s more than that….it’s….” you swallowed, looking up to meet his gaze, so full of hope and anticipation, “you need me Francisco, and while it may seem strange to believe…I need you to. Not because I need your protection, or because I need your abilities to reach some unknown end….I need someone who knows who I am, knows that these powers I have are not dangerous….and I think I need to be needed, or at the very least wanted by someone else.”

 

The hope in Francisco’s eyes grew and morphed into something else, into love. “I do need you Y/N, and not just for my condition or what have you, but because without you I would be lost, I would be empty and alone, I would be dead like my brother,” slowly, he lifted your hand from his chest, bringing it to rest against his cheek as he kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly, “I need you because you remind me what is real, this touch, this pain, this life….” he lowered your hand to his lap and fished something from the inner pocket of his jacket, something shiny and round and-

 

“Francisco what are you doing?” you asked him, tugging at your hand slightly in alarm as he held the ring in his fingers.

 

He smirked at you and shook his head, “I’m not proposing to you don’t worry,” he said, then he gently slipped the ring on your finger and released your hand, “read the engraving,” he urged you, pointing along the outside of the band.

 

You held your hand up close to your face and read the words engraved in a scrawling script over the silver metal, ’with your kiss…’ it said, and as you looked to him to ask what the rest was, he pushed the sleeve of his jacket up a few inches on his wrist to reveal a bracelet made of thick black cords braided around his wrist with a small metal plaque in the middle. He held it up to you and you saw the same scrawling script engraved upon it, ’…my life begins’

 

You stared at it for a moment, a small gasp escaping you as he took your face in his hands, “Tell me I haven’t misunderstood,” he asked urgently, “tell me this is what you want as well…”

 

You closed your eyes, your heart beating like a rabbit’s as you felt yourself smile and nod, “Yes,” you managed, in a happy little whisper, “yes I want this…I want you,”

 

You opened your eyes just in time to see his full joyous smile before he moved forward and kissed you, pulling your onto his lap in his need to have you closer. You clung to him just as greedily, happy with his kiss, happy with his touch, but probably most happy in the incredible knowledge that he needed you just as much as you needed him.


End file.
